Have Gun – Will Mutate
by I'm Not Wearing Any Pants
Summary: They say a hero is only as good as their villains. Which means Ben is in big trouble in this series.


Ben 10 was the creation of Man of Action, sadly beat to death by soulless Cartoon Network corporate overlords. No copyright infringements intended. OH MY GOD, DOCTOR ANIMO HAS A GUN! HE'S ARMED AND DANGEROUS, RUN FOR YOUR LIVES! Yeah, like that makes him any more threatening. Looks like a dime store toy he converted. In all seriousness, I am quite excited we see him appear physically in an upcoming episode to do brief battle with Ben. And getting an actual articulated figure release. In the first wave of the toyline, no less. Now that's impressive. He'll probably end up on immediate clearance. Well, can't say I'm super hyped for new episodes of this terrible series as much as the next person, but at least I'll have more parody material to consider. I should stop jamming the notes so close to the fic without a separator.

* * *

Doctor Aloysius James Animo woke up from a fantastic dream in which he was the most awesome evil scientist in the world. Everyone respected and feared him instead of calling him a badly dressed loser B-Grade villain who no one in their right mind cared about in the slightest. He murdered Ben Tennyson along with his entire family, leaving no one strong enough to oppose his boundless genius, and recreated the world in his own image, populating it with a variety of vicious incomprehensibly cool species of his own design. Humans no longer existed. The dominate species were now mutants known as Animo sapiens.

It was magnificently dystopian.

Sadly, it was but a dream.

Doctor Animo pried his face from the wooden work desk, wiping away the drool that had slithered down his rugged chin during peaceful slumber. "Huh, what?"

He looked around, finding himself not upon a throne surrounded by several huge golden statues of his likeness with worshipers groveling at his feet, but back in his damp hideout slash workshop slash laboratory, an abandoned warehouse by the local docks. It smelled of frigid sea, fishy air, and the piling excrement of several exotic wild animals he bought off the black market and crammed into tiny cages. He forgot to feed them for a few weeks. Fortunately they were still alive. As a plus, they couldn't talk so he didn't have to listen to complaints.

"Oh right. I fell asleep from exhaustion. That's why I've got these massive dark circles under my eyes. It's not simple villainous character design aesthetics. I get about 1 hour of sleep at most. And that's occasionally. Which reminds me, I should be working on some crazy mad science invention until I complete it or pass out again."

Letting out a gleeful mad cackle, he shoved the remnants of some partially consumed hamburgers still partway inside their colorful wrappers from the desk, revealing his new blueprints. He stared at it briefly before grabbing his pen, inking up a few new last minute improvements.

"Yeah, that's the stuff."

Satisfied with the final design, Doctor Animo grabbed his screwdriver, a handful of stray machine parts, the casing from old dime store toy ray gun, a few dozen tiny microchips, and set to work. He toiled away for the next two hours and 15 minutes.

"At last," he cried, holding up his latest diabolical invention.

It was a not a simple colander forged into a goofy looking helmet with horns that auto-fired his incomprehensible genetic mangling rays, but a mutation gun. For direct aiming. And aesthetics.

Watch as the show's perpetually dull writing inevitably does not explore this to its full potential within a rushed 10 minute time frame. Not that I would have expected it to.

"With this device I can easily mutate any species on the fly, or blast some obnoxious green eyed brat and his rotten family that dares get in the way of my lust for world domination in the face," he said. "I hope I get to do both." He held his latest creation high in the air, admiring it fondly. "I'll call you Doctor Animo's Patented Mutation Blaster. It's not really patented, but I don't give a fuck. I do what I want. If anyone tries to steal my copyright, I'll turn them into a half-mutant whale and lock them in a tank with no air source. Hahahaa! Despite being an entirely aquatic species, whales have lungs and require air to live." He lowered the device. "Or maybe I'll call it the Muta-Ray. Ooh, or the DNA Splicer Ray. That sounds toyetic. Or heck, just the classic Transmodulator is good. My pending figure even comes with the old helmet or hard hat or something and red goggles. We won't know what I call everything for sure until March. Or maybe never since the reboot heavily rests on the audience knowing about everything from the original Ben 10 and beyond though it's supposed to be a complete reboot full of brand new but poorly conceived material no one cares about. Do I still have the same origin?"

He shrugged.

"Anyhow."

He donned the machine or tank of some sort looking backpack that might be the new Transmodulator's battery source. And now the chest dial looks like a big red eye with a sinister slit pupil. Sweet. He twirled the gun in his fingers before slamming it into the holster.

Except he didn't have a holster yet. The gun fell from his hand to the ground with a loud clatter.

"Whoops," he said, looking down down at it lying there on the cold, dirty cement floor. "Hope that didn't jar anything loose." He picked it up and patted it comfortingly though it was an inanimate object. Sighing, he pulled out the mini tape recorder from his pants pocket. "Note to self: MAKE A HOLSTER FOR THE GUN BEFORE YOU DO TRICKS WITH IT. Also the Mint Cookies and Creme shake is back at Burger Shack. That is all." The recorder vanished into his pocket alongside his car keys that he never used. It was impounded about 10 years ago.

Doctor Animo went and got himself a holster and put it on.

"No more mishaps," he asserted. That was sure to become an obvious lie later in the story. Wait for it.

He pointed the rebooted Transmodulator gun at some of the cages in the background holding unspecified exotic species, and fired. A giant blast of red energy that causes wacky Lego pick n' choose DNA mutations at the genetic level shot out, enveloping the cages one by one as the beam hit them. Doctor Animo laughed madly. The cages bent outward and burst open, vicious guttural growls filling the room.

Soon stood a huge mutant beast formed of each of the animals that once inhabited the cages. Big bara muscles rippled beneath their fur and they had no pants. There was a bipedal anthropomorphic wolf, hyena, and tiger. They continued roaring while waving their sharp claws around in a demonstration of their ferocity.

Doctor Animo rubbed his chin, pondering. "Good, but could be better." He cranked the dial on his chest before firing three more times. Zap, zap, zap, nice and quick. All the beasts grew different sets of wings on their backs. Falcon wings on the wolf, leathery black bat wings on the hyena, and rainbow lorikeet wings on the tiger. "Yes, that will do nicely. For now. Until my uncontrollable obsessive compulsions take over."

The creatures stopped roaring and rubbed their eyes. They looked around, eventually settling on the strange little man before them, recognizing him as their master. It had little impact on their level of given respect.

The wolf leaned forward, gesturing with his hands. "Yo, Doc! What's with not feedin' us for like three weeks? We're starvin' here," he spoke with an inexplicable heavy Brooklyn accent.

The hyena laughed hysterically, unable to focus because everything was just too funny for no real reason. "Either I got ADHD or I'm really high right now, but I have no idea what's going on."

The tiger looked at his bright wings with clear disappointment. "Aww, hey, what's with these gay looking sissy rainbow wings? That totally ruins my otherwise decently manly action cartoon mook character design here." He flexed his muscular arms and thought about monster trucks.

The creatures loudly talked over each other, causing a sudden cacophony of stupid. Doctor Animo instantly regretted giving most of his mutants the ability to speak in this series. They're all annoying. He should have learned that back in Ultimate Alien with Screechy the pterodactyl man everyone referred to as a dragon for some reason. Like a cat being put through a blender. Bleeding ears. Luckily these text based ones only have annoying voices you interpret mentally in your head.

"Here we go with the bitching." Doctor Animo let out an angry sigh. "Look, I gave you the ability to speak not so you could voice your every irrelevant grievance, but so you could praise my genius. And understand my orders without a mind control implant lodged in your brain to forcibly guide you. It is assumed I still have the inherent ability to influence creatures of minimal intelligence. Which is why most of my minions so far in this series are dumb jocks or lumbering creatures of childlike comprehensive ability who can barely follow simple tasks without fucking it up somehow. Everyone else with brains rebels against me. I hate that!" He shook the gun at his towering musclebound creations.

"Hey, man. Don't point that thing at me," the wolf man said placatingly. "I just wanted some food. I didn't mean no disrespect." Yes he did.

The hyena stared at the ceiling. Then at the floor. Then at the oddly dressed mad doctor. He stifled a giggle. Good thing Animo wasn't wearing his new antennae helmet. Or the classic version with the infamous dildo horns. "I don't think I have the ability to fully grasp the concept of rebelling against you. I have way too many intrusive thoughts about fart jokes." He snorted loudly before breaking into uncontrollable giggles.

The tiger guy's hand shot high into the air. "Uh, yeah, Doc? Question. Could you give us some pants here? We're all butt naked! I'm not down for this job if I have to stare at these guys' swinging furry balls every other minute." He turned away from his naked muscle furry bara bros before developing unsavory thoughts.

Doctor Animo put a hand against his forehead. He glared at the pack of morons, hands on hips. "Shut your incessantly chattering muzzles before I shrink your brains to the size of walnuts and render you to basic motor functions!" He placed his hands behind his back, slowly pacing in front of his mutations. "You big whiny babies are worse than I am on a bad day. We'll go clothes shopping in a moment. And by that, I mean we'll knock over a clothes store for those in the audience who cannot extrapolate sarcasm. And I'll even feed you. I want to test your strength against my sworn enemy, Ben Tennyson. He's been paying way too much attention to these stupid newcomer villains instead of me, an awesome classic villain who was the first human villain he ever fought in the original series. I have significance to the Ben 10 franchise, damn it. I will not go ignored!"

"Eyy, I dunno, boss. Vilgax hasn't shown up in 20 episodes. That's pretty telling what they think of the classic villains," said the wolf. "I mean, you're probably lucky you and Hex got put in one full one episode each and one cameo."

"Uh, Hex was in two full episodes," said the tiger. "And one cameo."

"SHUT UP!" Doctor Animo shot at the floor by their feet, making both leap with a yelp. "They could be planning something big in the next season."

The hyena man burst out laughing. "Next season, he says! That's hilarious!" He slammed his hands over his snout after Doctor Animo gave him the most pissed off look imaginable. "I'm sorry. Sure, there'll be another season of this show. Maybe even three or four." He struggled to keep himself quiet with the blatant knowledge that a second season was clearly an impossibility.

This series only existed because it had been forced by a cruel, money hungry TV network that wanted to milk the last few drops of their former dying cash cow. There's enough evidence to prove it's beyond dry. MoA had long since left the Ben 10 property behind. The love was gone.

40 episodes were more than enough. 4 seasons, 10 episodes a piece. Just think of it that way. Or better yet, don't think of it at all. Pretend this show doesn't exist. Yeah, that's a better course of action. CN itself will assuredly be doing this come April. They buried Justice League Action and it's 20,000x better than the Ben reboot, pretty much proving CN doesn't want anything to do with action cartoons at all anymore, no matter if they have comedy added. It will sabotage them on principle.

Doctor Animo turned away, allowing a solitary completely non-dacryphilia fetish influenced tear to slide down his cheek. "There'll be more seasons. I'll be in more episodes," he assured himself, clutching his awesome new muta-gun to his chest. "I won't be overshadowed by Hex or that sparkly bullshit Twilight vampire parody Michael Morningstar. I might even get TWO figures in the toyline! One with and without the helmet goggle combo. Just you wait." He sucked his bottom lip, trying not to release a whimper of doubt.

Keep the dream alive, Doc. It's all you have.

(Somewhere else going on at roughly the same time)

Ben and Gwen and Grandpa David Kaye Tennyson were there, doing stuff on their eternal summer vacation that has no overarching dramatic plot development, the series favoring typical comedic Forgettable Bad Guy of the Week with global continuity reset format for every episode instead. Just like every other cartoon show currently airing. Sigh.

Grandpa Dave busied himself cooking some not weird completely normal mundane food over a grill in maybe a recreational picnic area of some sort in whatever random national park place that would make a good setting for whatever little plot was about to unfold within the next 10 minutes. Or about 7, given the previous events. Oh wait, silly me, this is a fanfic. There are no time constraints other than when I get tired of writing or run out of storyline. That's the magic of fanfiction. Huzzah.

Too bad this isn't a serious one with actual effort put into weaving a coherent story that could potentially expand upon the presented canon. Ain't I a stinker.

"Kids, I made hot dogs," he called, spearing one in the BBQ fork. "Completely regular good ol' American hot dogs. Made of good ol' chicken and pork substitute." He leaned down, whispering to the children as they came running up, "It's really anuses and intestinal casings. But mmm mmm, is it good. All that sodium and nitrates. Sticks to the arteries."

"Suddenly I'm not hungry. Even for this normal every day food that isn't full of bugs or tentacles," said Gwen, looking ill. She backed away several steps. "Though I can bet a few of these hot dogs do have traces of bugs in them."

"And fecal matter," said their eerie pod person grandpa, smiling placidly.

Gwen threw up in her mouth a little.

"I'll take two!" Ben held up his paper plate. He watched Gwen's face turn various shades of sickly green while she gagged. "Come on, Gwen. Don't be a baby. Anus nitrates are delicious." He sat at the table and grabbed the bottle of ketchup. "Especially when you slather them in imitation tomato flavored high fructose corn syrup." The bottle let out a wet fart as he drowned the hot dogs completely. "Besides, if you don't eat some during your childhood development, you'll get a gluten allergy. Then you'll grow up to be an overbearing blogosphere mommy who gets her jollies projecting her crippling childhood self-esteem issues onto her own children and screws them up so badly they all estrange themselves from the family by age 27, divorced three times, keeps settling for some crummy guy out of the fear of dying alone though it leaves her perpetually unfulfilled both sexually and emotionally, and who's only minor joy later in life is forwarding cat pics while complaining about fibromyalgia." Ben sucked some ketchup from his finger with a wet pop. "Also she plays Candy Crush like it's serious."

A gasp of sheer horror escaped Gwen's throat. She held out her plate in urgency. "I'll take three! Dish me up, old man! HURRY!"

Grandpa Not Our Max laid the unsettlingly phallic food objects in the buns. Gwen maintained a nervous smile. Her right eye twitched slightly.

The stampeding of feet with loudly rustling foliage drew the Tennyson family's attention. A bunch of campers came running through the clearing, panic etched upon their faces. Some had small cuts and bruises on their visible flesh. All were in varying levels of disarray. A random guy who was probably in the background of every episode but you didn't know because you don't pay attention to the shitty background characters the show seems to give way too much screen time to instead of worthwhile characters in the main cast stopped near Ben and company, screaming bloody murder.

"GET OUT WHILE YOU STILL CAN! THERE'S A BUNCH OF ANIMALS THAT WALK LIKE MEN TEARING EVERYTHING APART!"

The guy screamed again before running out of the scene, and the plot.

Ben finished stuffing the second hot dog down his throat. After swallowing with an audible gulp that concluded with a soft water splash for comic relief to imply the food had traveled down to the stomach, he looked over at Gwen. "Who was that?"

"Some forgettable background character blessed with brief dialogue who's only real purpose of existence is to move plot along." Gwen took a bite of her first hot dog and chewed it silently for a long moment. After swallowing the bite, she turned to Ben excitedly, her eyes huge. "Hey, you remember those two guys who were holding hands in Don't Let the Bass Drop?"

Ben paused in the midst of stuffing handful of sour cream and onion chips into his mouth. He raised an eyebrow. "Uuuuuuh, no? When did that-"

"Of course you don't! No one gives a crap about background characters. Especially not ones that look like refugees from Be Cool, Scooby-Doo." Gwen smiled forcibly while she resumed choking down her anus nitrates log with three times the recommended daily dose of sodium for flavoring. Her left eye twitched slightly. "Anyway, I totally ship those guys because it's canon," she mumbled.

"Um, yeah, I have no idea what you're talking about. It's most likely something that doesn't matter anyway so I'm just not gonna bother to care at all in the first place." Ben shoveled some potato salad into his mouth, tuning out his wacky overly excitable reboot cousin for safety. Mild concern tugged at the back of his subconscious. "I should check out that disturbance eventually. Probably. You know. Hero stuff. That's what I'm paid for."

Gwen glanced at him incredulously. "You don't get paid for heroing, Ben."

"Paid in validation of my existence as a heterosexual white male, Gwen. Not money," he said. "It's something you'll never understand."

Gwen frowned deeply. Knowing she'd automatically lose any argument she attempted to start by having a vagina, she shoved more anus nitrates into her mouth and maintained strict radio silence, lest she invite some cosmic misfortune to befall her like in every other story.

Ben looked at his watch. Not the Omnitrix. A real time keeping watch on his other hand. "Man, when the heck will Vilgax show up already? I'm so bored of battling pathetic comedy based throwaway villains for barely 2 minutes of action scenes at a time." He sighed.

A tree came crashing down in the distance, followed by a gruff voice with a Jersey accent.

"Where's that there Ben Tennyson? I'ma kick his ass! EYYYY YO!"

Another tree fell.

"Uh oh. Sounds like something bad is coming this way. It might be trouble for us on our otherwise innocent family vacation that we're trying to have," Grandpa Dave stated the obvious for the young children of the audience. And adults who act like children, unable to grasp realistic life complexities without it being pointed out in an extremely embarrassing dumbed down fashion. Or worse...sung to them.

"Gee, I sure hope it's more lame new villains of the day with absolutely no memorable qualities the old ones had, who come up with painfully idiotic convoluted schemes just to steal money or jewels like average thieves," Ben groaned. "'Cause we didn't have enough of those in the first 20 episodes."

"Well," Gwen said, struggling to locate some positives within this ongoing corporate travesty. "A few do have weird gimmicks like some of the old villains had, like Nanny Nightmare, Lord Decibel, or Steam Smythe."

Ben shook his head. "You're forgetting one major thing, Gwen. Their weird gimmicks are lame. Super ultra lame."

(Meanwhile elsewhere, for the sake of a cameo)

Steam Smythe dropped a wrench, cringing as he felt the overwhelming presence of a disgruntled audience looming overhead. He turned to the sky, shaking his fist.

"I am NOT...what you hoodlums call...lame! I am a character spawned purely as a parody of those in the fandom who cannot accept change, yet I have become the most endearing villain with the elder fanbase. Those few who fondly remember the glory days of old, when dramatic action cartoons were plentiful and serious overarching plot was a thing. Not this...this...ten minute mindlessly crude comedic drivel! Low brow slapstick and those...those...memes. CURSE THE MEMES!" He clenched his fists, shaking his head with deep contempt. "That kind of thing is only funny on the internet. So keep it there, for God's sake! The internet is a concept I don't acknowledge exists, of course. I just said that for the sake of a joke. Actually it's the narrator composing my dialogue. I say whatever they write me to. They don't quite have the firmest grasp on my archaic manner of speech. It doesn't matter anyway. This is a disjointed vulgar comedy fic!" He cleared his throat. "As I was lamenting."

Steam Smythe collapsed on hands and knees for dramatic effect, overwhelmed by a wave of anguished nostalgia.

"Some things really _were_ better in the old days. To deny this absurd! And why can't we demand better quality animated television programming for our children? Why is it when we complain, we are silenced? Ridiculed. 'Oh, you're just bitter things are different from when you were a child!' No, we're bitter because they're SHITTY AND INFERIOR! One day you too will grow old, wise, and most of all bitter upon the realization that some of what has been touted as cooler than any of the old things that came before them in actuality were a load of ignorant bullshit perpetrated by big business to sell inferior cheaply manufactured but outrageously more expensive products to the increasingly stupid children of the newest generation. Back in the day we had 22 minute action cartoons that were as good or better than the toys they advertised. Because they had to be or all the stupid gimmicks never would have worked. The cartoons themselves made you want to run out and buy the toys because they were ENJOYABLE. So enjoyable, you didn't care that they were obvious 22 minute long toy commercials even though deep down you knew they were. They didn't treat you like an imbecile who couldn't pay attention for longer than 10 minutes, and who must be sheltered from cruelly realistic life situations like human suffering, violence, or death at all times. By treating the viewer with respect no matter what age and not blatantly shutting out demographics that weren't the target audience, they became widely beloved properties that appealed to both children and adults, and they sold well. And that, dear children," he choked back a sob, "is why there's a shitty Ben 10 reboot. That's why. They are milking a formerly impressive cash cow absolutely dry because the original was a great show that was once widely popular all over the globe. It made a fuckton of money. But rebooting a once beloved fictional cartoon property doesn't work in this horrid generation. It just doesn't work. The love has gone out!"

He laid down and adopted a fetal position, continuing to sob lightly.

"Fucking inferior reboots of once beloved toy based properties. Fucking anachronisms. Fucking cartoon network promos that can't even get my name correct. I AM NOT CLOCKTOPUS! I AM STEAM SMYTHE! CLOCKTOPUS WAS THE NAME OF MY GIANT FUCKING MECHA FROM THE INTRODUCTORY EPISODE! WHY IS THIS SO HARD? WHY AM I GIVEN SUCH BLATANT DISRESPECT BOTH IN AND OUT OF UNIVERSE?" He slammed his fists on the floor to the beat of his pained heart.

After a long silence, Clocktopus, er, Steam Smythe inhaled a deep breath to compose himself before slowly getting back to his feet. He dusted himself off, coughing into his fist once.

"Well, whatever. That's my cameo. Good day to you all."

He tipped his weird armored stovepipe hat, waving everyone off so he could get back to repairing all his old crappy rusting obsolete robotics.

Steam Smythe is sincerely the best villain of the reboot. The only entertaining one to come out of the new lineup. And he was supposed to be the most insulting. That's the joke.

Whoever created him should be given a pat on the back for doing something correctly out of all the wrongs in this series. Nice to see him in the toyline first wave preview. Where all the other lame as fuck villains who came before he did are noticeably absent.

(Back at our regular scene with our regular cast of lovable losers)

"Ben? Ben! BEEEEEEN!"

Ben snapped back to alertness in time to see Gwen waving her hands in front of his face. "Whuh? Huh?" He blinked several times. "Bzuh?"

Gwen threw her arms in the air. "Ben, hello? You just blanked out for like fifteen seconds!"

"Did I? Huh, weird." Ben rubbed his temples with slimy ketchup stained fingertips. "You know, maybe Steam Smythe isn't such a lame villain after all. His cameo rant got me thinking. The original Ben 10 was the best of the entire franchise. Every other part had its moment and contributed a lot of new awesome concepts, but there's really no way to get the same effect that the original series had back when it premiered. Omniverse tried and failed, but they managed to squeeze some enjoyable fun out of the ordeal while making everyone hate Wyatt and co. for the glaring McDuffieverse retcons and ridiculous character redesigns. The reboot is just...no. Not even close. We're instead going backwards, making people who loved Ben 10 turn their backs on it in disgust and people who never knew what Ben 10 was hate it on principle thanks to a cheap looking reboot bearing its name."

Gwen grabbed Ben and shook him. "Who cares about him or better shows that aren't this one we're trapped in? There's these big anthropomorphic animal creatures with annoying voices and bad fashion sense looking for you, Ben!"

"I wonder who sent them," said Grandpa Not Quite Max, arms spread in stereotypical confused gesture. "Implied question marks. Ha, I never know what's going on. Unless the plot calls for me to explain what's going on. That's my characterization." He made jazz hands.

Ben slapped his palms on the picnic table, staring at his badly butchered but adorable cousin and no longer badass grandpa not voiced by the great Paul Eiding. "Don't even try to act like this is mysterious. You know it's Doctor Animo." He held out his hands and shook them for emphasis as he spoke. "When it has walking, talking annoying dumb brute humanoid animal people in it, you know it's Doctor Animo. Seriously, it's not that hard. That's his thing in this series."

Not Quite Max and Definitely More Annoying But Super Cute Gwen looked at each other. They looked at Ben. They shrugged. "Sorry," they said.

"It's not Grandpa's fault he exists to provide boring exposition and corny old man comedy in this series," Gwen said. "Or that I'm basically only here to reaffirm your competence and self-esteem as a boy while my own is chipped away on a daily basis because I'm a girl."

"Whatever, Gwen. It's not my fault you're developing self-esteem issues because you didn't eat enough anus nitrates before your biological girl clock went off, injecting your brain with self-destructive failure hormones that make you doubt how smart or capable you actually are and override your unique personality with a desperate need to fit in with the faceless masses. Better start saving up tokens for Candy Crush. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go off and be the center of attention again while you two vanish for an extended period of time. Because the show's focus is entirely on me now. Ben Tennyson. The star. I'm relatable to boys age 4-11. You guys aren't."

Ben got up from his seat, running into the forest toward inevitable thrilling danger. Which doesn't happen in the actual show much anymore.

He fiddled with the Omnitrix, going through the selection of aliens, hoping for Wildmutt, Ripjaws, Eye Guy, or even cute but useless Ditto to show up. He'd tried to play it off, but the existential crisis gripped him in its icy hand of crushing truth, more undeniable than ever.

"They have to be in here somewhere," Ben said in a voice filled with fretful concern. "I can't just have 10 aliens! That's stupid. Only 10 aliens in this series would so totally mean there's never going to be a second season of this show. No, more than that. It would heavily imply there was never any intention at all. MoA wouldn't do that to me. They love me. Don't they? I'm Ben Tennyson! Savior of the universe!"

His bottom lip quivered with fearful uncertainty. Try as he might, the Omnitrix displayed only the 10 current lineup of aliens. Ben mulled over the fact that they didn't have any real new ones created for the reboot. Overflow is an uncreative redesign of Water Hazard replacing Ripjaws. Wildvine and Stinkfly just look more humanoid. Effectively making them uninteresting. Furthering the bad design choice was to also make them additionally super irritating on top of it.

Ben raised his hands to the heavens, shouting, "WHO THE FUCK IS ZAK STORM? WHY DOES HE HAVE A TALKING SWORD THAT CREATES 7 DIFFERENT MAGICAL POWERS TO HELP HIM FIGHT THE FORCES OF EVIL? WHY DOES SKULLIVAR WANT TO USE THE SWORD IN ZAK'S POSSESSION FOR HIS OWN NEFARIOUS PURPOSES? WHY DOES IT GET TO BE A 22 MINUTE LONG SHOW? WHYYYYYYYYYYYYY? WHY HAVE YOU FORSAKEN ME? POURQUOI?"

He pounded his small fist on the watch in panic, accidentally changing into Cannonbolt.

"Aww, donkey nuts."

He hung his head in a mix of anguished betrayal and crushing helplessness, feeling very alone, no longer trendy. But most of all, dangerously unprofitable. Doom doom doom doom doooooooooooooom. Death knell.

Oh, don't act scandalized. The Reaper's been knocking at the door since Omniverse burned its last few seasons off. If you couldn't see it, you've been in denial. Or living in Europe or Asia.

"I won't believe it. This godawful piece of shit can't possibly be my swan song! It's not fair! My legacy! We could have had a road trip with the most popular characters in the franchise packed into one vehicle! Whyyyyyyyyy thiiiiiiisssssss!" Cannonbolt choked back incomprehensible grunts of angrish, clawing at the air. "SOMEONE DELIBERATELY SET UP THIS FRANCHISE KILLER TO FAIL BEFORE IT AIRED! HOW COULD THEY DO THIS TO ME? I MADE THEM SO MUCH MONEY!" His formerly white face turned a light shade of red. Veins throbbed around the area that might be his forehead.

"Hey, you there. Fatty armadillo panda guy," said a voice, interrupting Ben's raging existential crisis.

"What? First of all, I am not an armadillo or a panda, dude," Cannonbolt retorted. He pounded a fist against his stomach. "Second of all, this isn't fat. This is muscle. Probably. About 65% muscle. 24% chitinous material. I don't know what the rest is. But it's probably not fat!"

He turned. And blinked, staring at a winged werewolf guy wearing a dated greaser look, complete with leather jacket and a cowlick of pomade covered hair dangling over his furry forehead. It looked like something you'd see on FurAffinity.

"And third, who're you to question my character design while looking like that? Ew, dude! What the heck is in your hair? Grease? And why are you dressed like a goth emo teen's version of Elvis?"

"Spare me the lecture on fashion, tubs. Have you seen some brat, 'bout yay high, green eyes, brown hair, shirt with a 10 on it? Name is Ben Tennyson." The wolf guy punched his fist into his palm before shaking it threateningly in Cannonbolt's direction. "I gotta few words for 'im. In the form of my fists in his face, eeeeeeeyyyyyyyyyyyy."

The leaves of a nearby bush rustled. The bush spread apart as a humanoid hyena with bat wings came swooping through, giggling in a high peal. He wore an armless black bodysuit with a short blue vest over it. An earring decorated his left ear.

Seven seconds later, another tree fell. There came an enraged growl from a tiger guy dressed in a pair of high laced wrestling boots, fingerless gloves, and tight spandex pants with hot pink tiger stripes going down one leg. He joined the group, flexing his arm muscles so hard his eyes were bulging. "Where's Ben Tenniston? I'm gonna fucking fight him. Beating the shit out of someone obviously weaker than me is about the most ALPHA thing I can think of currently."

"That's 'cause you were on Reddit for two hours before we left to hunt down this kid, bro," said the hyena through hysterical laughter. "You're taking yourself much too seriously. You're a giant Tony the tiger guy dressed like a flamboyant '80s wrestler. With fancy rainbow wings."

"FANCY? WHO ARE YOU CALLING FANCY? I'LL CRUSH YOUR SKULL!"

The tiger guy pounced at the hyena. The hyena screamed while laughing and ran to a safe distance. The tiger turned to shoot a death glare at Cannonbolt.

"And who're you looking at, Stumpy? You think you're better than me? Huh? YOU THINK YOU'RE TOUGH?" He got all up in Canon B's face, posturing to the best of his ability. "You think you're better than me? I'll crush your skull too!" He raised his hands aggressively to initiate a thrashing. His face fell with confusion. "Where is it, exactly? Your head is kind of also your body."

"Yeah, I noticed." Cannonbolt moved away from the insufferable creatures. He covered up the Omnitrix symbol with his hand. "Uh, look, guys. We got off to the wrong stump, ah, I mean, foot here. I'm just a random alien guy on vacation innocently minding my own business. I don't know any Ben Tennyson. But if I did, he'd probably be over there in the next campground, sitting all nice and vulnerably for you to try to attack while I go rework my strategy here and come back to ambush you before it slowly dawns on your sad little malfunctioning brains who I am. Ah, I mean, I didn't say anything incriminating!"

He rolled up in a ball and bounced away.

The wolf gave a disgusted look at the distant Cannonbolt before the rotund alien made it over a hill and vanished. "Sheesh. Who was that loser? What a square. For being so round, I mean. It's kinda funny."

"No, the fact that you thought adopting a retro 1950s look in the year 2017 is funny," said the hyena.

"At least I developed a fresh look based off an old concept. Not stole an entire character design from a popular cartoon from 1999, eyyy."

"It's an homage!"

"It's a friggin' rip-off."

"Homage!"

"Rip-off! You added a freakin' earring to it, and you got some wings, you deviantART OC lookin' reject."

"It's Woof from Batman Beyond, if anyone wanted to know. But I look cuter and more kid-friendly. Hee hee! Splicers."

"Both of you shut up!" the tiger guy yelled. "We gotta find that kid and tear him apart for Doctor Animo. Also I need to pump some iron and watch some football games. And hide that special folder of erotic male nudes I saved in Doc's photo library. Oh FUCK I meant to think that, not say it out loud!" He slapped his forehead.

"Man. Just accept yourself for who you are," said the hyena, placing his hand on the tiger's shoulder. "You're a big gay sparkle furry designed by a weird old man who is obviously a big gay sparkle furry lover."

"NO!" the tiger yelled, throwing the hand off. "That's not true!"

Sadly it was. That's the comedic concept we're pushing here, anyway.

The hyena gave him the most serious look he could muster. "Would he dress you like that if he wasn't? More importantly, would he dress the way he does himself if he wasn't?"

The tiger began hyperventilating while clutching his head, his world rapidly unraveling. "Noooo! Doctor Animo said this was a good look for me!"

"Sure he did. He wanted to get a good look, eeyyyy, at your big round ass in them ridiculously tight pants. Eeeeeeyyy. Annoying verbal tic."

"The outfit certainly compliments the wings." The hyena giggled uncontrollably. "I mean that in a sincere manner. I just can't stop laughing inappropriately. This will likely have a severe and crippling impact on my quality of life or relationships in the future." He giggled again.

"AAAH! DAMN THAT OLD MAN! FUCK THIS, I'VE GOTTA CHANGE OR I'LL NEVER GET AN ACTION FIGURE! IT'S NOT THE 1980S! FLAMINGLY GAY AS HELL BUT IN A MASCULINE WAY CHARACTER DESIGN LIKE THIS DOESN'T SELL ANYMORE!" The tiger screamed in horror and ran off into the woods, flailing his arms.

The remaining two mutants watched him go.

"Gee, I don't have the heart to tell 'im he'll never get an action figure in the toyline because he's a random throwaway OC created for a fanfic and not relevant to the actual Ben 10 reboot," said the wolf. "Chances are high we'll never appear in another fic after this. We gotta make the best of it."

The hyena put a finger to the side of his head. "Yeah. We should go back to the warehouse and bug Animo to give us some names."

"Hey, there's an idea," said the wolf. "Weird that you had a good one for once."

"I know. Usually I can't stop thinking about people falling down Up escalators long enough to have constructive ideas," said the hyena before breaking into more hysterical laughter. "It's just so funny!"

The wolf walked off, growing annoyed. "Yeah, whatever. Come on already, ya lousy knucklehead."

"Knucklehead, he says! Dated slang is funny because it's no longer relevant! People who use it are funny. It shows they're not hip with the times. Like the corporate network execs who commission reboots of popular cartoon franchises and then force every bit of potential out of them by dictating to children what they should want to watch instead of letting them decide for themselves. Fart jokes, ancient internet memes, stupid trending pop culture references, lawl!" He roared with laughter.

(Back at the campground, a few dozen yards or so away)

Cannonbolt rolled down a hill, bursting through some bushes. He slammed to a stop against a tree and grunted in pain, falling on his back. Gwen and Grandpa Not Max were sitting at the picnic table a few feet away. Gwen ran to check on her downed cousin.

"Ben, are you okay? Did the talking mutant animal men kick your butt in a spectacular story boarded fight that was reduced to half the size it used to be to fit both time and violence constraints?"

"No, the tree did. Sometimes I think this armor is just for show." Cannonbolt sat up, rubbing his head-neck area or whatever it is. "I mean, give me a second, will you? I'm fine. I just had a minor strategy malfunction."

Ben transformed. He groaned. Gwen helped him up.

"Okay. 3 guys. All mutants. A wolf, a hyena, and a really closeted tiger. Bipedal. Annoying jerks, bad fashion sense. Definitely Animo brand quality. I didn't see Animo himself around, but I'm sure he'll show up eventually with some new dumb gimmick he thinks can stop me from kicking his ass back to jail." Ben raised his finger in the air dramatically. "I'm definitely gonna get payback for all the dry snark he got on me in Something I Ate. Stupid Doctor Animo. Why'd they have to shove him in this series? Just to torment me, I bet. I miss Vilgax so much. Wow, can't believe I said that."

"Maybe we can help Ben fight these mutant creations of Doctor Animo, eh, Gwen?" Grandpa Not Max suggested, nudging her arm.

Ben turned round and laughed loudly. He kept laughing for a good two minutes. It went on and on. He clutched his stomach, nearly falling to his knees from how much he was shaking with laughter. Eventually the laughter subsided.

"Oh man, now that is hilarious!" He wiped away a tear. "You seriously think we're doing the family crime fighting hero team in this series. That's so naive, it's adorable. Hahaha, good one, guys. I needed that laugh. Hey, here's another one. Maybe Gwen will learn magic one day and Grandpa will reveal himself to be part of a secret alien fighting government organization. HA HA!" He slapped his knee. "It's funny because," he wheezed between laughs,"it's so obviously impossible at this point. You can tell this show is already cancelled before it airs in the US. HAHAHA HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" Ben put his hands over his face, smothering the now borderline psychotic sounding laughter.

Gwen and Almost But Not Quite Max exchanged glances. They retook their seats at the picnic table with a heavy air of disappointment.

"Well then...I guess we'll just sit here and do nothing until the plot calls for us to do something," said Not max.

"Yeah, like giving a piece of obvious information, or giving Ben a compliment," Gwen muttered into her arms which were resting with her face on the table. "Or making complete idiots of ourselves so Ben gets to look cool. Or be shoved off to the side so Ben can be the center of attention. I hate this show. Even the fanfic based off it is crap. We don't get to do anything anymore!"

"You're doing an awful lot of complaining," Ben said while nudging his cousin's noodley arm. "Sorry, guys. The show's not called Ben 10 for nothing. Seriously, this time there's only ten aliens exactly and the show focuses mostly on me and my now hilariously dull 10 year old comedic exploits versus random problem of the day. There's not enough time for anything else. They're doing the best with what little they have." He strutted off to go find some decent plot. "Okay, back to business. Me transforming into ten boringly simplified redesigned aliens, cherry tapping a mediocre selection uninteresting bad guys into submission because the violence allotment on this show has been severely lowered."

Ben transformed into redesigned super irritating Greg Cipes Doing Beast Boy Crossed With Michelangelo version Stinkfly.

"Oh, man. I hate this guy. He so annoying, he even gets on my nerves."

Stinkfly buzzed off to go annoy Animo's trio of super mutant douchebros until the credits abruptly slammed down on everyone's heads.

(At the lair of the nefarious Doctor Animo)

"I thought I ordered you to murder Ben Tennyson and bring me back his blood-dripping severed head," said Doctor Animo, tapping his gun irritably against his thigh as he sat in a rickety wooden chair in front of the control panel for some evil but currently nondescript giant machine he'd built previously.

"Well, we were gonna," said the wolf. "But we didn't see 'im anywhere."

"Yeah, and anyway, that's way above the Y7 rating. We'd never get away with it," said the tiger.

"You're lucky you get away with that new outfit." The hyena chuckled with his hands over his muzzle, pointing at the tiger's interesting choice of attire.

A black leather biker outfit that looked a bit too leather bar reject instead of biker.

"What? This is tough! MANLY!" He crunched up his fuzzy kitty fist and shook it at his fellow mutant.

"You look like the BDSM pride flag, dude," whispered the hyena, struggling to contain himself.

The tiger screamed in anguish, ripping out a handful of his frosted tips. He stormed away to go change yet again.

"Yo, Doc. Can we get some names here, or what?" asked the wolf.

Doctor Animo cupped his stubbly chin, staring at his mutants in a deeply reflective manner. For all of five seconds. He pointed at the wolf. "Fonzo." He pointed at the hyena. "Chuckles."

The tiger came back wearing tight blue jeans and a robin's egg blue button down t-shirt with the front partially open, exposing his furry white abdominal muscles. A white sailor's hat rested on his head.

"Orangina."

The tiger looked around stupidly before pointing to himself. "Me? WHAT? DID YOU JUST REFER TO ME AS SOMETHING WITH JEENA ON THE END OF IT?"

"You came late to the naming party," Chuckles giggled, "but you got the best one!" He fell down laughing, kicking out his little paw feets.

"Eyyyyyyyy," Fonzo said while making guns with his clawed hands. A pair of sunglasses now covered his eyes.

Orangina stomped his furry foot. "THIS IS UNFAIR! I PROTEST!"

"Silence! Those are your names and you'll humbly accept them or I'll fry your brains to ash with a heavy dose of mutation ray," Doctor Animo snarled, no longer tolerant of inane comedic padding bullshit. "And no more clothes changes. You furclowns are eating up too much plot time with this nonsense that I could be using to glorify myself and my inscrutable genius." He stood and juggled his gun in his hands before throwing it behind his back and catching it. "See? I've been practicing." He twirled the gun around his finger before slipping it into the holster. "I'm awesome."

"Damn it. Isn't Orangina copyrighted or something?" Orangina was struggling to Google fact check at the computer after he deleted the naughty folder out of further burning shame. "I hope you get sued for copyright infringement, old man," he muttered.

"It's not so bad. Can we call you Big O?" Chuckles asked, grinning pleadingly at him.

"Well, it's actually better sounding than the full thing. So yes," said the newly dubbed Big O dejectedly turning away from the computer screen in defeat.

"Front and center, you trio of dimwits," Doctor Animo commanded.

His mutant trio scrambled into formation, saluting. "Yes, sir, Doctor Animo, sir," they said in reluctant unison.

"Since Tennyson's family is pitifully more inept than any previous incarnation to date, you three go capture them and bring them back here so I can strap them to my newest device: The DNA Scrambler. In case it wasn't clear by the name alone, it scrambles DNA into whatever the fuck realistically biologically impossible structure I want." He walked over and placed his hand upon a tank attached to the machine. "This tank is full of various animal DNA sequences in serum form or some such scientific bullshittery for kids made by the writers. Once I load them into my ray, one blast from it and it'll mutate anyone into a hilariously freakish combination of mismatched evolutionary traits. Including useless dead end ones. Those are always funny." He moved over to a game show style wheel labeled with different traits and spun it. "'Round and 'round it goes, where it stops, you better hope it lands on something good or you'll end up a perpetually drooling man-sized banana slug with a toupee of human hair."

Ben Tennyson in the form of Stinkfly came crashing through a skylight. He landed face first on the floor with a thud.

After picking himself up, he stood groggily, pointing at Doctor Animo. "Ha! You don't have to come looking for me, Doctor Ambizol. I found you." He shook off his minor concussion, putting on a determined battle face. "Sorry. I got bored of waiting for the climactic action scenes to start so I just skipped over a bunch of tedious filler garbage and came straight here to get things over with."

"I was supposed to have more casual filler glorifying myself thanks to author appeal before this scene! Curse you, Tennyson," Doctor Animo said, infuriated. "Oh well. At least I don't have to waste time kidnapping your less endearing rebooted family to lure you here."

"No, actually, I brought them with me so I could make this fight extra dramatic by saving them while I kick your goon's butts," Stinkfly said. He was busy tying them to the DNA scrambler's target area.

"Ben!" Gwen yelled. "You asshole!"

"Relaaax, Gwen. It's not like I'm actually gonna let Animo mutate you guys," he assured, patting her on the head. "Besides, now you get to be part of the action scene! Sort of."

"I'm not going to be an adorable damsel for the remainder of my rebooted 10 year old life! Give me magic, give me Anodite powers, give me judo, for fuck's sake!" Gwen screamed while kicking her feet out uselessly.

"I don't want to be a perpetually drooling man-sized banana slug with a toupee of human hair, Ben," said Grandpa Not Max with a very concerned expression. "Not again!"

"Get him!" Doctor Animo yelled.

His mutants pounced, snarling and roaring.

"Stupid unfunny joke delivered in a irritating whiny douchebag tone that makes my character come off as more super fucking annoying than ever," Stinkfly shouted as he flew. He hit them all with a toxic cloud of fart gasses.

The mutants yowled and covered their sensitive noses from the reeking stench. Stinkfly used the distraction to grab a bunch of old fishing nets hanging around. He tied the mutants up in the nets.

"I feel unfulfilled in my role and increasingly dead inside," Big O bemoaned.

"Looks like you're all tied up. Get it? HAHAHA SO FUNNY. THIS IS GREAT COMEDY!" Stinkfly lolled his head. "If you're 4 years old."

Chuckles couldn't stop laughing. Tears streamed down his face, soaking into his fur. "I realize it's not funny," he wheezed. "I have a condition."

Stinkfly shrugged. "Or an idiot man-child mutant hyena created by another idiot man-child whose character stopped being relevant to the franchise after the first series. Who thinks an oversized toy ray gun converted into a mutation blaster whatever makes him look badass."

"I thought it was a hair dryer, eyyyyyyyyyyyy," said Fonzo.

"I have a figure in the toyline! You shut your stupid redesigned mouth!" Doctor Animo blasted the device at Stinkfly while he flew around the room being as annoying as possible, trying to incite Animo's wrath. Which wasn't that hard to do. "How dare they place my figure next you yours in the preview lineup! You insufferable insect!"

"Clearance rack," Stinkfly shouted. He gave Animo a loud raspberry. "Oops. Actually, that was me farting. I didn't think I had a spare butthole back there since they're on my shoulders. Alien anatomy, so wacky." He put his hands to his mouth and made a fart sound. "Endure as they shove this alien down your throat in far too many episodes!"

"I miss Wildmutt in this series, specifically because that alien couldn't possibly deliver shitty puns and obnoxious dialogue," said Doctor Animo, doing a dynamic action pose with his gun. Feel free to envision whichever you want. Joking. He was doing a Lara Croft tits and ass pose. Enjoy the disconcerting mental image I have now implanted into your brain.

"Yeah. Now that I think about it, I'm kinda glad I didn't get Eye Guy in this series," Stinkfly said. "That would rapidly turn into a nightmare."

"Me too. That alien might have been competent enough to accomplish something else while flinging the banal eye puns around, like saving your family!" Doctor Animo ran to the control panel of the DNA Scrambler and slammed his fist down on the start button. He threw back his head, letting out a maniacal bout of laughter.

"BEN!" Gwen and Maybe One Day We'll Come To Terms Reboot Grandpa Max Tennyson screamed.

"Oh, riiight. Whoops."

Stinkfly panicked until a countdown timer on the machine began to tick down from 20 seconds. He let out a sigh of relief.

"Whew! Thank goodness you B-villain mad scientists always stick those random countdown delay timers on your evil rays or bombs, giving the hero a chance to react and save the day before it's too late."

"Oh, damn it," Doctor Animo groaned, slapping his face with his palm. "Curse this villainous OCD!"

Stinkfly sliced his cousin and grandpa free of the ropes with his sharp wings. Gwen proceeded to slap the shit out of him. Grandpa Sort of Max But Not Really Because He's Not Awesome Like The Real Grandpa Max sighed deeply with the relief that he wouldn't be cursed to crave rotten eggs for the next twenty weeks.

"Ben, you gotta be more careful with these semi-dramatic villain fights," GM said as he wiped his sweaty forehead with a handkerchief. "We've got another 20 episode parodies to get through. You can't just blow through all the action scenes at once. There won't be anything left but the cracky exaggerated comedy used to poke fun of how absurd and cartoony the show has become and belligerent snark leftover from the author's fandom discussions."

"Can't talk, Grandpa. Kicking Animo's ass," said Stinkfly, cracking his exoskeletal knuckles. His head turned back and forth in a blue blur looking around the room for the man in question. "Hey, where is he?"

"He escaped the plot while you were saving us from the stupid peril you got us into in the first place," said Gwen, looking most cross.

Ben transformed, falling six feet to the ground, landing on his butt. "Ow. Well, dang. Isn't that the proverbial kick in the ass."

A bat flew out of nowhere. It came near Ben's face. He yelled and waved his hands at it, smacking it out of the air. It fell to the ground with an odd clank, face down.

"Nasty rabies carrying vermin! Nobody touches the hair." Ben covered his messy coif with his hands protectively.

The bat began yelling muffled dialogue from its spot on the floor.

"Hey, that's no ordinary bat," Ben said.

"No duh! That's because it's one of Doctor Animo's stupid mechanical cameras," Gwen said.

"Oh, right. I knew that." Ben picked it up. Doctor Animo's nervous face appeared onscreen. He looked strangely relieved to see Ben. Ben glared at the source of his continuous fanfic based pain.

"Oh, thank goodness! I was starting to get desperate from the forced isolation. I need someone to pay attention to me or I get really tweaky. Just look at what happened to me in Omniverse. I cut off the top of my skull and started talking to stuffed toys."

"Why did you run off and leave this dumb animal shaped camera, you coward of a dork? Because you knew I was gonna mop the floor with that stringy flea-infested mess you call hair?" Ben demanded.

"Ha, dream on, skippy. I did a strategic retreat so that I might face you man to boy with alien watch that turns him into man-sized aliens at a later date. And mark my words, I will win! I, Doctor Animo, the world's greatest scientific genius. So there. Nyah." He stuck out his tongue.

Ben lifted the bat-camera over his head. "Can I trash this thing and end our collective misery now?"

Gwen and Grandpa Whoever nodded their heads rapidly.

Doctor Animo gasped. "No, wait! Not again! As loathe as I am to admit, I don't have anyone else to make halfway intelligent conversation with!"

"Too bad." Ben threw the camera to the ground with all his might, smashing it into sizzling, sparking chunks like the last canonical one from Something I Ate. "And so ends another lame fanfic," he continued in a bored tone. "Based on a lame promo for a lame reboot."

The group of Tennysons sighed.

"So...what do we do now?" asked Gwen after a long uncomfortable pause.

"Don't look so glum, kids. Maybe we'll get put in an interesting story one day," Grandpa M suggested.

They all laughed for a few minutes. Then they began to cry.

Ben's phone rang. He stopped sobbing long enough to pull it from his pocket. "Pete's Pet Emporium?" Confused, he answered though his gut instincts told him not to. "Hello?"

"Tennyson," Doctor Animo's voice came through.

Ben did a double take. "Doctor Animo? Again? How'd you even get this number?"

"I'm a genius, you idiot! Also it's not like the internet is a thing. Google is not your friend, Tennyson. Neither is our imitation version of Youtube. Nice job ruining that school play when you were six, hahaha."

Ben heard his own muted voice yelling "SQUIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIDS" helplessly over and over in the background. His teeth gnashed in rage. "ANIMO! YOU...YOU..." Ben broke into enraged gibberish. He threatened to jab the End Call button with his trembling finger. "DON'T EVER CALL THIS NUMBER AGAIN!"

"No, wait, Ben!" Gwen tackled him and grabbed the phone away. "We don't have anyone else to make halfway intelligent conversation with now either! If the story ends, we'll all be trapped here in limbo, doing nothing! Nothing but regretting our existence as fictional characters from a bad reboot placed into more disappointing stories in fanfiction. At least if Animo's still here, you'll be pushed by the story to try and catch him to resolve it. Meaning a sequel hook. So we get something to do! Even if it is sitting around at a table eating terrible food somewhere while you do the exciting major storyline points elsewhere by yourself."

"She's right, Tennyson. Which is amazingly something she can't do correctly in the actual show canon any longer," Doctor Animo said.

Ben growled. He tried to take the phone back from Gwen but she held it above his head out of reach as he jumped. "I don't care! I'm not spending any more time than I'm forced to with that lunatic. Anyway, he's only trying to get more storyline for himself! He doesn't care about any of us."

"Well, you're partially correct. But I promise it'll be a better story than this piece of crap. I'm on pretty good terms with the author even though they constantly make fun of me," said Doctor Animo. "Maybe they'll put us all in a story that rivals the canon in terms of entertainment factor." He sounded enthusiastic. "Or at least another parody of an actual episode of the show that points out the glaring flaws in an exaggeratedly comical manner."

"I don't believe it," said Ben. "Just let me lie down and die already. The horse is dead. Stop beating it." Ben laid down and adopted a fetal position. "Wake me in 20 years so I can see how the original show has held up in terms of nostalgia."

Oh, quit whining, Ben. I'll write you into a better story.

"Who the hell is that?" Ben questioned the booming omnipresent voice, sitting up in alertness.

Who do you think, you adorable little dumbass.

Ben, Gwen, and Grandpa Whatshisname gasped while hugging each other fearfully.

"Heh heh. I told you," said Doctor Animo's voice over the phone before everything went black.

To Be Continued...

In another story.


End file.
